


Three Sentence Ficathon 2018 Fills - Greek Mythology Division

by ViaLethe



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Trojan War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 08:37:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17639441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViaLethe/pseuds/ViaLethe
Summary: My Greek & Roman and Trojan War Mythology fills from various Three Sentence Ficathons of the past few years.





	1. Make Our Own Way Through

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompts included!
> 
> Ch 1 - Demeter & Persephone  
> Ch 2-4 - Persephone/Hades  
> Ch 5 - Persephone & Psyche  
> Ch 6 - Ariadne/Dionysus  
> Ch 7 - Artemis/Iphigenia  
> Ch 8 - Hector/Andromache/Helen  
> Ch 9-10 - Hector/Andromache  
> Ch 11 - Hector, Paris, Cassandra  
> Ch 12 - Cassandra & Paris  
> Ch 13 - Andromache & Helen & Cassandra  
> Ch 14 - Helen/Paris  
> Ch 15 - Cassandra/Aeneas  
> Ch 16 - Cassandra & Aphrodite  
> Ch 17-18 - Cassandra

_Prompt: Greek mythology, Demeter & Persephone, a woman's rage is like the winter_

Her daughter is different, when she returns, when she rises once more above the ground and stands, whole and blinking, in the sun.

On the surface she is the same, skin unblemished and hair smooth, no trace of his touch staining her like a blight.

But a mother’s eye will _see_ ; the pale skin, bone white and dead chill; the eyes, haunted and huge and stark, and so winter becomes - a mourning, a tribute, a memory.


	2. Worth Giving Up

_Prompt: Greek Mythology, Hades/Persephone, wait for me_

“Wait for me,” he says, soft in the shell of her ear, when the seasons shift and the earth breathes over their heads, new life wending its way down to take away his.

In the bright of summer above, she blooms, and basks in the light, heady and swaying, drunk on the riot of color and life and yet; and yet -

“Wait for me,” she whispers, palm pressed into the earth, dark and damp, fingers digging down until she feels his chill.


	3. A World That's Drenched in Darkness

_Prompt: Greek Mythology, Persphone and Hades, role reversal_

She watches him carefully, this dark, slender king, pale amongst the bright riot of blossoms that surround them, and ponders all the tricks and tools at her disposal.

Life, she knows, is both seductive and repulsive to him, so unfamiliar, so unexpected – but death, _ah,_ death is his reluctant home, the soft spot that will allow her to penetrate the deceptively thick shell of his reserve.

“Do you not find it strange,” she asks, carelessly plucking a handful of berries, “how the very material that sustains our lives must die to make it so?” and she's careful, so very careful, to let them fall artlessly from her fingers, to turn away without watching, as though she hasn't seen the fixed nature of his gaze, as though she cannot feel his hunger seeping through her, even now; he will eat, and she will have dominion, even over death – this she knows.


	4. The Only Difference Is the Truth

_Prompt: Greek mythology, Hades/Persephone, everything they said about him was wrong_

Of all that she did not expect, this surprises her most: his skin is warm.

She is built of her own world, all lush life, brightness and warmth, rosy, sun-spotted skin and flushed cheeks; everything in his world is dark, muffled, floating in an endless chilled mist, leeched of color, a delicate veil cloaking sharp edges.

But when his hands are finally upon her, in those first tentative touches, as though she is as delicate as a fresh-bloomed flower, they are more than warm; they are a brand, raising an inferno within her, a heat blinding enough to replace the sun, to melt her bones into his; enough to make steam rise from her skin, bright white amidst the grey.


	5. Some Things Only She Knows

_Prompt: Greek Mythology, Persephone & Psyche, why Persephone chose to give her a box of death/eternal sleep instead of beauty_

The Goddess of the Underworld gazes long at her, and though her eyes are a warm shade of green, Psyche feels chilled to her marrow.

“No,” Persephone says finally, shifting on her great ebony throne, her slim bare feet flashing from beneath the hem of her dark robe, “I think you have had your fill of beauty, and both the prizes and trials it carries in its wake.”

When the box is handed to her, tiny and smooth and far too heavy for its size, Persephone gives her a smile all full of edges and promise, and says, “This is something you have not yet known, and one way or another, it will gain you what you seek, that I promise you.”


	6. Come for Me

_Prompt: Greek mythology, Ariadne/Dionysus, don't be afraid_

“Don't be afraid,” she says to him, laughing, before the battle begins.

As she lies dying, he says it in return, tears flowing like wine, like blood, over his face.

Even in the Underworld, she hears its echoes, and waits.


	7. Baby, Don't You Worry

_Prompt: Greek mythology, Artemis/Iphigenia, modern roommate AU shenanigans_

“You're a lifesaver Art, you know that?” Iphigenia muttered into the vicinity of Artemis's collarbone, squeezing so hard she thought they both might break.

“Hey,” Artemis said, shifting enough to look her in the face, “so your jerkass dad cuts you off, that doesn't mean I'm going to let my girl end up out on the street. Of course,” she added, brushing her thumb over Iphigenia's lips and winking to make her laugh, “you might just have to work for me in other ways to pay that rent...”


	8. Vulnerable in Your Head

_Prompt: Greek mythology, Hector/Andromache/Helen, heaven can't help me now_

“All is well,” Andromache whispers in her ear, though all Helen hears is _“All you do is a betrayal.”_

“The gods owe you a moment’s release” she says, hot against Helen’s ear, and Hector’s hands are hot against her skin, stronger and more sure than his brother’s by far, but oh, she can’t, _how can she._

“Give in; you are safe,” Hector tell her, as his wife’s arms wrap around her and Helen’s world comes apart; still, her head echoes in ecstasy, _“Flee, for I will bring you ruin,”_ and they mistake her sobs for pleasure, and the gods look the other way for one more precious night.


	9. Everything I Can’t Afford

_Prompt: Andromache/Hektor, was ready for the downslide/but not for spring to well up_

“You should never have come here,” he says, and, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” breathed against her skin in the darkness like an offering, like a prayer for release.

But she is not. Her thoughts remain the same, since she came to this city a proud girl, expecting a fight and finding instead - _I love_ as she saw the way he looked at her, and smiled, and _I love_ as his fingers splayed over the tight skin of her rounded belly, feeling their child shift inside, and _I love_ even now, even as she watches him walk away, straight backed and shining in his armor, one last time.


	10. You Have All Your Life

_Prompt: Trojan War Cycle, Hektor/Andromache, But if you close your eyes/ does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?_

With her eyes closed, the distant campfires on the beach are blotted out in the blackness; the scents of smoke and blood and burning might be mistaken for the night following a great sacrifice, the constant unease draped over the city like a smothering blanket be merely the foreboding of a storm blowing in from the sea.

“Close your eyes,” she murmurs to Hektor, and shifts her body to straddle his, hands meeting the familiar planes of his chest.

“It is just you and I, my love,” she says, and feels his mouth curve against hers, for as long as the darkness lasts.


	11. Let Life Stretch Out Before Me and Break Me

_Prompt: Trojan War Cycle, any member/ship of the Royal Family of Troy [Hector, Paris & Cassandra], we were caught up and lost in all of our vices_

In the city, with Andromache, Hektor is calm, and responsible - a good father, noble son, caring husband - but here in the dust and grit of the battlefield, he is a beast, a creature born of blood rage and wrath, striking down those in his path and exulting in it, though he knows it is wrong; for it is not a thing he shares, not with anyone.

Sometimes Paris believes he is frightened of everything in the world - the battle raging endlessly below, the disappointment in Priam’s eyes, the bellowing rage of the Greeks, come for his blood - but mostly, as he lies in the darkness beside his great prize, he fears losing Helen most of all, and clutches her all the harder, until she shifts in his grasp, his fingers leaving marks in their wake.

“You will save a city in peril, and guide it to the greatest glory the world has known,” Cassandra tells Aeneas, but he merely laughs, and says, “I’m no great hero such as that, my friend,” and leaves before she can tell him _no, you are the only one among us who is_.


	12. All a Game

_Prompt: Trojan War Cycle, Cassandra & Any [Paris], gather ye rosebuds while ye may_

Paris has never been her favorite brother; he is too callow, too flighty, too well pleased with himself.

And yet: he is sweet, and gentle; it was he who would bring her kittens and flowers when they were small, always wanting to please, always wanting to be her hero.

That is why, when he boards the fateful ship, she lays a hand on his arm, and smiles, and tells him, “Enjoy well your days in the sun, brother,” though he only laughs and kisses her hair farewell, a careless boy still.


	13. Too Tired to Sing Your Own Songs

_Prompt: greek mythology, trojan war queens, the men had their oath of the horse; the women had something just as binding_

His brothers speculate, in sly, sideways glances, in murmured asides to one another – _Was she worth it? Was there enough beauty in all the world to pay this price?_ \- and still, Helen holds her head high.

But Andromache takes her by the hand, saying, “We understand,” and Cassandra meets her eyes, no trace of madness in her gaze, and whispers, “You chose this too.”

“Freedom is worth any price,” Andromache says, firm and proud, and only then does Helen allow herself the luxury of tears.


	14. Be On My Side Tonight

_Prompt: Greek Mythology, Helen/Paris, this is a state of grace_

“Were you ever truly happy here?” he asks on the eve of battle, when the clamor of the Greeks at the gates rises even to the level of the palace.

She feels his fingertips brushing her skin, and sees with dry, sleepless eyes the beloved lines of his face before her, and knows what he really means is _were you ever truly happy with me?_

She thinks of Sparta, and Menelaus, and escape; she thinks of trying to explain the difference between _choosing_ and _happiness_ , and finds they've grown too tangled inside her, and all she can say is, “I never dared to think we'd even get so far.”


	15. Keep Your Head Up, Love

_Prompt: Greek mythology, Aeneas/Cassandra, when we were young/oh we did enough_

At Hector's wedding, she dances the night away with suitors from far off lands, with her brothers, even with her father, coaxing old Priam down from his throne with smiles and eager, outstretched hands.

Aeneas she ignores, leaving him to glower over his fine wine amidst the wreckage of the banquet tables, until the night begins to lengthen towards the sun's rising, and the groom and his bride have long been hauled away.

He is just beginning to doze when her hands tickle beneath his tunic, the wildflower scent of her hair bringing him out of sleep with a jerk as her laughing voice murmurs in his ear, “See, you _do_ care, friend Aeneas; you cannot pretend indifference much longer.”


	16. Never Meant for this to Mean a Thing

_Prompt: Trojan War Cycle, Aphrodite & Cassandra, here to make amends_

Her heart has ever been mercurial, soft and hardened by turns, but she truly feels for this little princess, Priam’s pretty daughter, and all the misfortunes the gods have heaped upon her.

“Surely there is one you hold beloved,” she whispers, “for all deserve a little pleasure; but speak his name, and he shall be yours.” 

“I will bring pleasure to none,” Cassandra says, her eyes on the distant figure of the goddess’s child, and Aphrodite feels chill, even in the midst of Apollo’s blazing sun.


	17. Your Sweet Voice

_Prompt: fairytales/mythology, any [Cassandra], a step sideways from reality_

In visions granted in sun-stroke, Cassandra sees her prophecies gone right - her brother kept at home, a war averted, a wooden horse burning high on the beach, screams lost to the crackling flames.

In her dreams, Hektor is king and greyed with age; Paris laughs at his side, gone fat and jolly; Creusa beams at her brood of grandchildren, and Cassandra - 

Cassandra is not there, and she wakes with the sun’s glare in her eyes, harsh and pitiless; unforgiving, unrelenting, unbearable.


	18. The One Thing I Know to Be True

_Prompt: Greek mythology, any woman [Cassandra], I'm locking up everyone/who ever laid a finger on me_

“You will die,” she tells him, for she sees it all: the raging wife, the welter of blood, the final act of a revenge long plotted, coming at last to brutal flowering; he does not believe her, this commander who thinks himself above all, his ugly hands pressed hard against her mouth, stifling her voice.

“You will die,” she warns the wife, for she sees this too: children must honor a father they barely recall, even at the cost of a mother they know too well; she does not believe her, and even the feather-light touch of her fingers, pushing away the girl as though to push away the prophecy, feel cold and sharp as bone.

“You will die,” she whispers to the god with her last breath, for this is her last sight: his temples crumbling, his light fading, his believers turning to a different sort of son; she knows from the flash of terror in his eyes that he believes her, and so she goes to Hades with a smile on her lips.


End file.
